


Merry Kittens

by eticatka



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Cats, Christmas, Denmark Street Discord Sekrit Santa 2020, F/M, Gen, Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28009167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eticatka/pseuds/eticatka
Summary: When Strike agreed to look after Nick and Ilsa's cats, he didn't expect what he's in for.Sekrit Santa prompt: "Cormoran and too many kittens". T-rated for language.
Relationships: Ilsa Herbert & Cormoran Strike, Ilsa Herbert/Nick Herbert, Nick Herbert & Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 18
Kudos: 36
Collections: Denmark Street Discord Sekrit Santa 2020





	Merry Kittens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SleepyEye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyEye/gifts).



> @SleepyEye and everybody, I hope you enjoy this!
> 
> Many, many thanks to my incredible betas @RaeNonnyNonny and @CVH14 who helped me make this fic so much better! And thanks to Denmark Street Discord for running this amazing Sekrit Santa challenge. Merry Christmas and happy holidays everyone!

“Oggy, are you going anywhere for Christmas?” Nick’s question had a welcome subtext. Strike was staying in London this time, and being invited to his best friends sounded like the best alternative to spending the night alone watching telly. They haven’t seen each other for a few months.

“No, I wasn’t planning to.”

“Excellent. Listen, mate, Ilsa and I are visiting my parents just before Christmas. Would you mind cat-sitting for us?”

“Cat-what?” Strike could hardly believe his ears. His hopes for a warm Christmas at the Herberts’ almost evaporated.

“Well, we’ll be away for the whole day tomorrow, and our usual cat-sitter is off for Christmas. There has to be someone to look after the cats, and you’re the only one we trust.”

Strike unearthed his first acquaintance with Ossie and Ricky from his memory. It hadn’t been the most pleasant experience. He wondered, however, why two adult cats needed a cat-sitter just for a few hours.

“And we should be back right for Christmas eve, so we can celebrate together,” Nick added.

 _Now_ they were talking. Strike sighed and agreed.

*

An unwelcome surprise awaited him when he arrived at the Herberts’ the next morning.

“Seven? Seven fucking cats!?”

“Three cats and four kittens,” corrected Ilsa. “They’re sweet, well-behaved, have plenty of food and know how to use the toilet.”

“But how you managed to produce four kittens, for fuck’s sake? You had two male cats!”

“I picked up a stray cat about a month ago,” explained Ilsa. “Brought her to the vet, to do all the vaccinations and all that. She turned out to be pregnant, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“Ossie and Ricky took it surprisingly well,” Nick continued. “They behave like two proud uncles.”

Strike looked at his two friends, and then back at the cosy cat crib where four fur balls slept peacefully, cuddled around their mother. It all looked so serene, it was almost suspicious.

“Why didn’t you tell me I’d have to look after seven cats?”

“I wanted to,” Nick said quickly.

“You wouldn’t have agreed otherwise,” Ilsa smiled. “Please, Oggy, do it for us.”

Strike grunted. There was no way out.

“Okay. What do I have to do?”

“They have their special food in their bowls already, it should be enough till we come back, so there’s no need to feed them otherwise. Your main task is to keep an eye on them, make sure there’s always the same number of kittens, and don’t let them near the Christmas tree.”

“Easier said than done,” Strike muttered. “Do they have to be in this room?”

“They’re allowed to come out if you can keep them under control.”

*

The first hour of Strike’s cat-sitting was relatively calm. The kittens (three black-and-white girls and one ruddy-furred boy) spent it, for the most part, sleeping. Occasionally they woke up to suckle from their mother. The mother, a shabby cat named Chelsea, lay on her cushion with sheer pride in her eyes.

Strike got himself a Doom Bar out of the fridge, opened his laptop and tried to focus on the case the agency took on right before the holidays. Soon it became clear that working was impossible with a constant threat of kittens waking up. Strike caught himself twisting his neck every two minutes, trying to make sure that the _status quo_ persisted. It was unlikely that these small creatures could cause any serious harm, but Strike didn’t trust them. Experience taught him that sometimes the most peaceful-looking things, animals, people are the most dangerous ones. He thought of Janice Beattie, for one. Who could tell how many people this tranquil-looking nurse had murdered? And, in this case, who knew how much destructive power was there in these four adorable kittens?

While they were still asleep, he decided to give them nicknames, just as he had always done with clients and marks. He named the girls Robin, Michelle and Pat, and the boy was christened Sam for his utter resemblance of Barclay. After some consideration, Strike renamed him as Sam Andy, since Hutchins would be left out otherwise.

Just as he was going to share with his new employees some insights on the case, Ricky decided it was a perfect moment for bringing a dead mouse into the house. He obviously wanted to share his hunter’s expertise with the young apprentices, but the kittens remained unimpressed, since their mother’s milk and the expensive cat food in their bowls were much more attractive. A short fight followed, during which Ricky and Ossie challenged each other’s right on the catch. Strike shooed them away, and the outcome of the conflict remained unknown.

“Okay,” said Strike, “let’s get back to Mr Shady. He thinks his wife is sleeping with his own brother, but has no proof. His brother, however, lives in Belfast, and it wouldn’t be easy… No, no, no, Pat, there’s nothing for you under that cupboard!”

It was too late. Pat, the white kitten with two large black spots on her back, disappeared under the cupboard, and all Strike could see from his position were two burning green eyes.

While he was contemplating how he could get the kitten out without hurting her or destroying half the kitchen, Sam Andy crawled out of his crib. He was definitely going to join his little sister under the cupboard, and Strike decided to prevent it at whatever cost. Trying to be as gentle as he could, he caught him and carried back to his mother. Sam Andy shrieked and tried to scratch him. When Strike put him on the cushion, he curled up in a small ball and looked at the large human with genuine terror.

“Guess I’m your worst enemy from now on,” Strike let out a sigh. “Sorry, mate, but I can’t let you live under the cupboard. Now let’s get your sister out of there.”

Said sister didn’t move. For a split second, Strike suspected she had got stuck between the cupboard and the floor, but there seemed to be plenty of space above Pat the Kitten’s back. Apparently, she just liked it there. To test her, Strike took a handful of cat food and placed it on the floor, right next to the cupboard. This had an unexpected effect. While Pat was crawling slowly towards the pile of food, Robin and Michelle noticed it, too, and came running to taste it. As a result, pieces of food were dispersed all across the kitchen, Robin the Kitten climbed on the sofa, and Michelle the Kitten, under the sofa. Now Strike had three kittens out of place, two of them under the furniture. He tried to imagine what would happen to his bad leg if he knelt down to extract the kittens. It wasn’t what he had in mind for Christmas.

At least all the kittens are still alive and perfectly satisfied with themselves, he told himself. If they get hungry, they will come out. Worst case scenario (if the kittens had found the way to the Christmas tree), he hoped Ilsa would have mercy on him.

Feeling the urgent need to share his troubles with someone close, he called Robin.

“Are you still in London?” he asked, implying that she was going to Masham for holidays.

“I’m not leaving,” she said. “Decided to stay in London this year. And you?”

He felt a pleasant flutter in his stomach. And then an idea hit him.

“Me too. You busy?”

“Not especially. Why?”

“D’you fancy coming to Nick and Ilsa? I’m stuck here with seven fucking cats, and I can’t handle them alone.”

*

Robin had no issue with kneeling down, and her hands were much gentler than Strike’s. Within five minutes from her arrival, she extracted both kittens from under the cupboard and under the sofa; she placed all the runaways into their crib and closed the door to the room they lived in.

The rest of the day was much calmer. Sitting on the sofa, Robin and Strike discussed the new case, the kittens, the naming of the cats and Christmas. At 11 pm, Ilsa texted:

**We have to spend the night here, make yourself comfortable in the guest room! Merry Christmas xx**

“Seems like it’s just you and me tonight,” said Strike. “Merry Christmas, partner.”

“Merry Christmas, partner,” Robin echoed. “Not the worst company for Christmas: my best mate and a bunch of riotous kittens.”

“Too many kittens.” Strike cast a sideway glance to the door where the kittens remained. “I don’t think I’ll ever get a cat.”

“Don’t you want some company when you’re alone in your flat?”

“I do, but I prefer humans.”

Robin laughed. Strike grinned, too, and put his arm around her shoulder, hoping it was something best mates did. However, he was going to say something which couldn’t count as a best-mates-banter. Not at all.

“Actually… I don’t prefer _all_ humans. Really it’s just you.”

She looked up at him. Her smile was gentle, and he could see he touched her with these words.

“In every aspect,” he continued. “As a friend, as a partner, as a…” He tried to regain his breath. “As a woman.”

With this, he bent down and kissed her on the lips. The eagerness with which she responded to the kiss made all the unasked questions irrelevant. He knew she felt the same.

*

When Nick and Ilsa arrived on Christmas morning, happy that their plan had worked, Strike and Robin were dozing on the sofa. Their heads were touching; each of them had two kittens on their lap. The Herberts silently high-fived each other and tiptoed out to get ready for the Christmas lunch.

**Author's Note:**

> Last year I spent a week at my friends' country house, and while they were at work, I kept an eye on their three adult cats and four kittens. So I sort of projected my experience on Cormoran :D


End file.
